Den of Shadows Collection: Lose yourself in the fantasy, mystery, and intrigue of this stand out trilogy. Christopher Byford
without the –’
‘The fact that you are, by definition of the word, a thief?’
‘Something like that.’ Wyld sighed wearily. Why was she trying to garnish her actions, or even justify them? Who, exactly, did she have to redeem herself to? She was a thief, but one born of necessity. That was the justification and it would have to be good enough for her conscience.
‘Where did it come from?’
‘Some dust-ball museum out west when we passed through. For such a rarity you would have assumed security was paramount, but you would be wrong. Quite the disgrace I assure you.’
‘Shocking. Is it valuable?’ Katerina enquired.
‘It’ll outfit you girls with pretty dresses three times over.’
‘Really? How many would you say you’ve, uh, acquired in your time?’
‘I’m not sure. Over twenty artefacts maybe, if I had to guess.’
Katerina’s mouth moved as she made a conservative estimate of the total. Her eyes widened. ‘Wow. With all that, you could,’ the showgirl barked in excitement, ‘you could buy this train!’
‘Suppose so. It’s all going to be sold off soon. Buyers can be tricky to come across but we’re in luck here. Windberg has a decent market for such things, surprising given how hard the law is coming down. It’s always best to flog the lot as you never know when the next opportunity may arise. Case in point: we have a sheriff sniffing around like a dog in heat.’
‘And the money? That’s a considerable amount.’
‘Goes in the bank where I can’t misplace it.’
‘Any plans with it?’
‘I have debts to pay, especially to your boss,’ Wyld reflected. ‘As for the rest, I’m sure I’ll be able to find a use for it one day.’
‘But why the Holy Sorceress fixation?’
‘Why what?’ Wyld’s brow arched.
Katerina pressed her lips together, concluding a common theme in what had been acquired. ‘All museum pieces from what I heard. Sorry, but the news on the wire gives it away. I read the papers too. Every place we’ve been, you hit the same sort of joint. Everything you go for is religious. Do you only steal those sorts of things? Is that your niche?’
It was a fact. Every single item was an effigy, no matter the medium or size, and they all depicted the same subject. Every trinket, every piece was a relic, something that Wyld knew full well. She had just never expected to be quizzed as to why. It wasn’t coincidence, despite being passed off as one, but to elaborate on the reasoning would be just asking more questions, the likes of which would be nauseating to converse about.
‘They’re just more valuable,’ Wyld dismissed with a half-truth. ‘Age is indicative of worth.’
‘Not if my father is anything to go by.’
They both sniggered in unison.
With her bottle now empty, Katerina coaxed a refill from Wyld’s, sniffing the rum before letting its warmth slide down her throat.
‘You live an uncertain life – not that there’s anything wrong with such a thing. It sounds pretty charmed by all accounts though personally I would struggle with the regular illegality.’
‘A sense of normality wouldn’t go amiss admittedly. A life like this lacks security. I’m living every day back to back without real guidance. The wind blows me in the direction that I guess to be correct. Half the time I just need answers.’
‘What to?’
‘Plenty of things.’ Wyld callously took a mouthful.
‘What if you could get those answers? What then?’
The bottle slowly popped from her lips and she tilted her head in curiosity. ‘I don’t follow.’
Katerina waited on her words for a moment, giving consideration as to how to structure them appropriately. She moved a hand to the lacy folds of her dress, reaching into a pocket and wrapping her fingers around the shape inside.
‘There is a prerequisite to being hired for the Gambler’s Den. We’re required to perform, showcase our talent as it were. We’re not just pretty faces despite what the punters may believe. Everyone has their niche. For example, Misu breathes fire –’
‘In every sense of the word from what I’ve established.’
‘Corinne parades the art of ventriloquism.’
‘What might that be?’
‘Tossing one’s voice in different directions. Yours truly has a couple of talents but one of the more peculiar ones is this.’
Katerina removed a box of cards from her person, playing cards at first glance, until the adorning artwork revealed their true nature. Its simple cardboard sleeve was draped with arcane impressions of the night’s sky, cluttered despite being tasteful. These were for anything but play.
‘Fortune-telling? Where did you learn that?’
The cards were removed from their housing and sliced repeatedly in cuts as she divulged the answer. ‘My dear old mother. Sit down, she would say, and she’d teach me under the oil lamp. To my understanding it was a family tradition, one she was keen to keep alive. All things come and go in a lifetime, but curiosity about one’s future never wanes. That’s what she used to tell me. Money and fame can be found in such a thing, if both were your fancy.’
‘It’s an old practice …’ Wyld drew at her chin in concern.
‘You sound sceptical. Tell me you’re not one of those who calls it blasphemous.’
‘Not at all. I knew a street vendor who did told fortunes on the side to earn bread money. Though I’m unsure as to this format you’re using. They were all chicken bones and crystal balls. I put it down to his settler blood.’
The cards were placed down on the carriage floor and fanned out with a wave of the hand. With another they slinked back together just as quickly. Apt hands worked their magic to create a spectacle of the cards being presented yet this was just for show with the design to easily impress.
‘What you encountered was a charlatan. Those displays are just for roping in passers-by. This, on the other hand, is an art handed down from time immemorial.’
Wyld scoffed and though she meant no offence she had deeply rooted opinions on the matter. ‘Cards?’
‘I could give you their long, proper name but yes, for want of a better term, these are cards.’
Wyld leant over her hammock, ensuring that she didn’t move her weight to send her falling out, a feat easier said than done considering how much she had drunk.
‘What’s this imagery? All I see are stars.’
‘Close,’ came the reply. ‘They’re constellations. See, these cards in this part of the deck contain the constellations we can see in the night sky. It’s a widely held belief that they tell a story as a whole, but separately, the order in which they appear can be indicative of an individual’s life.’
Wyld flexed a finger to a point. ‘Why has this one got the moon in it?’
‘Those with the moon are part of the major set. Those cards are, for want of a better word, a little more noteworthy. By the formation of the cards and what we present, we can build up a picture. Get some of those answers.’
Wyld took a sip of courage. ‘Okay then, you’ve convinced me. I’m game. Even false hope is better than no hope at all.’
‘If you would please cut the deck and hand me three.’
Wyld obliged, passing them over face